I saw him coming from a mile, and my calm walk became a run. Hiding my face behind my hands, I made my way into the shady building that was Rockwell Academy. It looked different somehow, more futuristic than usual. I leant against the brick wall, my nail scraping against the graffiti. “Stella. Stella!” ugh. He was waving and shouting, his arms wide open. I located a group of seniors, and made my way inside, ignoring his protests. I sighed, a sigh of relief. I was actually happy to be here, standing at my locker. I groaned as my papers slipped out of my locker, gliding quickly onto the floor. When I bent down to retrieve them, I saw him again. “Decided not to move away after all, Stells?” he asked, leaning against my locker. I bit my lip. I may have told a lie to get him away. I laughed, my cheeks turning a horrid red colour. As red as the sweater Joseph Phoenix was wearing. His face was beaming, bright and excited. He was excited to see me. When he finally gave me my papers, I tried to move away from him. I felt him suddenly grip my hand tight, weaving past the sea of excited high school students. Before I even spoke, he knew what I was saying. “It’s alright,” Joseph said. “I don’t mind if I’m late, Ms Morris won’t care.” I groaned. There it is, Homeroom 6, I can leave. I release myself from his grip, giving him a grateful smile as I slip through the door. “I’ll see you at lunch.” I could hear Joseph’s voice droning from inside, but I was glad to be away from him for once.
When I finally made my way to my desk, laid out my books and pens, I could hear everybody’s conversations. “Is she seriously dating him?” somebody from behind said. She turned around swiftly, looking straight at them. It was Everson Jones and Bertha Tate, the school gossips. I knew it was rude, but I loved to be in the know. “I saw his profile, he has pictures of her.” Somebody else said. I looked longingly at them, hoping I could know about it, but they turned away- all sniggering. Okay, that was weird. Mr Burn looked at the class, his tired eyes closing over. His arms were folded, and he didn’t look happy. He cleared his throat, loudly, hoping we’d shut up. It was the beginning of the new term, what did he expect? “My lectures are very interesting,” he said, loudly. “I hope you all pay attention, or you’ll fail your tests tomorrow.” And then, half of the classes heads rose from their desks, and a groan surfaced through the class. Mr Burn laughed, an evil laugh I assumed belonged to an evil mastermind- and not a first period English teacher. “Now, I want you to write an account on what you did this summer.” He said, tiredly. He yawned, settling down into his leather chair and staring blankly at his computer screen. The conversation began to build up around me, and I sunk straight down into my desk. I began to write, unable to control the flow of my blue ink pen. I had so much I wanted to write about: parties, summer camp- “What did you do over summer, Stella?” Trinity Green, the teacher’s pet of first period English, asked with a snigger. “I heard she went out with Joseph Phoenix, they’re official.” Somebody said, a smug grin on their face. And then the whole class, their wide eyes staring straight at me, began to laugh. Oh God.
Fists clenched, teeth chattering I made my way towards the boy’s locker room. I saw Joseph standing in the corner, his eyes shining bright. He smiled, taking a wooden heart out from his khaki backpack. “I made this in shop,” he said. “I hope you like it.” Like it?! “Like it?” I said, staring straight at him. “I absolutely love it!” I grumbled softly as he hugged me. I had to face it, the nicer side of my brain was acting up again, and I wasn’t happy about it. so…it was official, I was dating my stalker. When I made my way towards my locker, I heard the sniggers. “Hey, Stells.” Trinity said. I spun around to see her orange face. (I swear she must have to peel it off at night) she was smiling, a false smile that I was very familiar with. “I was hoping you could make it to my senior party at the ranch” she said, handing me a humungous pink invite. I smiled approvingly at her as she clicked down the hallway. “And Stella,” she said, with a slight snigger. “Make sure you have a date, I don’t want you feeling left out. Hey, maybe Joseph.” I laughed loudly at her. The morning passed quickly like a blur, and before I knew it, I was in the lunch queue. And he was waiting there, in the secret corner of the dining hall. It was for school events, but now it had been branded “Stella Simon’s Love Corner” according to all the gossip I heard. Grabbing a turkey salad sandwich, mineral water and blueberry muffin I made my way towards the outside area. “Oh, Stella.” I ran quickly away, carrying the brown paper lunch bag with me. I rested my body against the wall, taking a deep breath. He wasn’t around so I could relax. And then I noticed the sign, Restricted Area, and I groaned. The soccer team were practicing and I had a front row seat, I thought happily. I had to admit, I loved soccer. I was reminded when I saw his face, Bronson King, the captain. I had to admit, I had a crush on Bronson. The only thing was, he was a senior, and I was in a relationship. Apparently.
The mouse hovered over the screen and I waited for the page to load. As soon as it flashed onto my screen, an unearthly scream surfaced in my throat. Joseph had edited his page on THE BLOG to Joseph Simons and there were pictures everywhere. I wanted to bury my head in the ground and never come back up. “Honey?” I swivelled around in my black leather computer chair to see my Mother’s aged face. She stepped in, without being told so, and instantly looked at the screen. “Joseph Phoenix?” she asked. I nodded, suddenly shocked. “I was a friend of his mothers. I’m glad you two are getting along.” Getting along? He was obsessed with me. And then I heard knocking at the door and I sighed. “Stella! It’s Joseph.” My Mother’s voice, slightly alarmed, called from the hallway. I came downstairs, and I saw him. He was carrying a huge bouquet of flowers, and he handed them to me. “I’m sorry.” I said. He looked up at me, his eyes sad. “I’m allergic.” My Mother looked more alarmed than Joseph did. “You’re not allergic,” She said, grabbing the flowers. She retreated to the kitchen, the flowers in her hand. Alone, I thought, with my crazed stalker.
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